


Freedom's Just Another Word

by Brenda



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Bottom Raleigh Becket, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, POV Raleigh Becket, Pre-Battle, Top Chuck Hansen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Yeah, you'll definitely do, alright," Chuck drawled, his voice all thick like molasses in winter. "So, we doing this or what?"</i>
</p><p>  <i>Raleigh's blood was thrumming in his veins, his heart was pounding in his chest.  "Yeah, we're definitely fucking doing this."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom's Just Another Word

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jo for the beta. And to GDT for being an insane genius & giving us this film.

Raleigh thought the cantina next to the mess hall would have been bustling, filled to the brim with people angling for a drink or some mindless conversation or just to have a place to sit and not be alone. Maybe raise a toast in tribute to the Wei Triplets and the Kaidanovskys or something. But it seemed everyone was doing their drinking or mourning in private, because the place was virtually empty. Fucking figured that the one time Raleigh didn't want to be alone, there was no one around.

Well, almost no one. There were a couple of people holed up at one of the tables, but Raleigh didn't know either of them, and he wasn't really in the mood for trying to strike up some idle chit-chat with strangers. But being down here was infinitely preferable to pacing in his room and going stir-crazy, and since he was trying to avoid Mako and the drift hangover he knew they were both feeling, a seat at the bar was as good a place as any to be.

He slapped some credits down and asked for a bottle, didn't matter what kind, and if the beer the bartender handed him was mostly piss-water, well, at least it was nice and cold. Raleigh wasn't all that picky, never had been. He wasn't aiming to get shit-faced anyway. He'd jockeyed the drift once while hung over and he'd thought Yancy was going to kill him afterwards for being so careless and stupid.

Yancy...the great ache that never quite went away, no matter how much Raleigh worked, where he ran, who he was with. And getting to re-live Yancy's death in full-on, glorious Technicolor earlier in the day was right up there on his list of shit he'd really rather not go through again. Even chasing down Mako's painfully horrific childhood memories was preferable. 

Thankfully, though, he and Mako had been able to work past their shit and to work together, or everyone would be dead. But it didn't mean he was looking forward to tomorrow and doing it all over again. Hopefully it would be easier the next go around, or they were all fucked anyway. But that was for tomorrow, and tonight, he was just as happy he was still alive and he'd proven himself as a pilot again.

He was still nursing his beer and semi-watching the rugby match on the TV above the bar (Ireland-Britain, twelve-seven in the first half) when the very last person he'd expected or wanted to see dropped into the seat next to his without even so much as hey man, mind if I sit here.

Chuck fucking Hansen, no Max or Herc in sight, was smirking at him like Raleigh was the best joke he'd heard in a week. He'd showered and shaved at some point since he and Raleigh'd last seen each other, and was dressed in camo pants and a plain olive-green tee like Raleigh, but there, the similarities ended. Raleigh still had no idea what bug had crawled up Chuck's ass where he was concerned, and he didn't really give a damn. He wasn't in the mood. Not tonight. He'd saved the dude's life _and_ his old man's, and that should be enough to buy him a pass for at least a few hours of peace.

Chuck tapped the wood next to Raleigh's glass. "Anyone ever tell you drinking alone's the first sign of addiction?"

Raleigh deliberately raised the glass to his lips. "If you've come for another round, you've picked the wrong night, brother, because I'm not interested in a rematch."

"Why, afraid I'll kick your arse this time?"

"You really wanna do this?" Raleigh asked, half-turning so he could stare Chuck full in the face. He idly noted that the cuts on Chuck's face from his fists were angry-red, but definitely healing. Any other time, he would have felt some measure of satisfaction over them, but right now, all he was was tired. "Tonight of all nights... I mean, shouldn't you have a little respect? You knew the Weis and Kaidanovskys better than I did."

"Yeah, I did, and they fought like cats and dogs every second they were around each other. If I really wanted to 'honor them', as you put it, picking another fight with you would be good enough tribute."

"You know, someone really is going to kick your ass one of these days and they're not gonna stop like I did. I'd watch my step."

Chuck flung a hand out to encompass the bar, and maybe even the entire Shatterdome. "Mate, we'll probably all be dead by tomorrow and no one will give a fuck about any of us or any of this or how we acted. We'll be remembered as heroes or martyrs. History doesn't give a royal shit about nuance."

Chuck had clearly given the matter a lot of thought, which said something, but it didn't mean Raleigh had to put up with his piss-poor attitude just because the kid knew how to use his brain some of the time. "Alright, maybe, but, I dunno, just for tonight, let it be or something. Can you do that?"

Chuck stroked a hand over his chin. "Like, me and you calling it a truce?"

"Sure, if you want to call it that." It sounded perfect, in fact. "Like you said, we'll probably be dead by this time tomorrow. Do you really want to spend your last night on earth being a belligerent dickhead or being a pissy bitch for...whatever fucking reason it is?"

"Yeah, alright," Chuck shrugged, surprising him with both the quickness and the sheer amiability of the response. "But you're buying the beer. And none of that cheap swill you're drowning in right now, either. If we're dying as heroes tomorrow, let's fucking well drink like it tonight."

From annoying asshole to good-humored friendliness in under two minutes. Raleigh's head was swimming. But it didn't stop him from offering a grin in response. He still didn't like the cocky shit, and they sure as fuck weren't friends, but Chuck wasn't gonna try to drown him in bullshit platitudes, and it was better than drinking alone. "In that case, I think we need a shot."

" _Now_ you're talking like a proper pilot."

Raleigh slapped more credits on the counter and held up two fingers to the bartender. "Just remember who was actually jockeying out there when you were still in grade school."

Chuck let out an amused snort as the bartender placed two shot glasses brimming with light-gold liquid in front of them. "Yeah, alright, old man, I'll be sure to fetch your cane when we're ready to leave."

Okay, he probably deserved that one.

The tequila burned his throat going down, but it was a good burn. Especially chasing it down with a Cooper's, which, Raleigh noted, was better than what he'd been drinking. Not that he was planning on giving Chuck the satisfaction of knowing he was right. And maybe it was the moment or the mellowness of the beer or simply the fact that he and Chuck weren't at each other's throats for once, but hell, they were both here, it was a truce. Maybe it was time to find out if they could hold a conversation that didn't involve them getting into a dick-measuring contest.

"Y'really think this plan of the Marshall's is gonna work? Operation Pitfall, I mean."

Chuck's laugh was small, but genuine. "Mate, I have _no_ idea."

"An honest answer. I can respect that." Raleigh took another pull from his beer. "You don't strike me as the type that respects too much."

"Not too many things've earned it," Chuck replied. Raleigh got the feeling that was maybe Chuck's motto for life.

"Humor me," Raleigh said, and motioned for two more tequilas. May as well go for broke.

"Cheers." Chuck tipped back his next shot with barely a grimace. "Alright, then, since you asked nice. I respect the Marshall. Tendo. The techs and mechs that keep Striker up and running."

"And your dad?" Raleigh asked, wondering if he was about to wreck the tremulous peace between them.

Chuck gave him a hard, long look, but then he shrugged again. "Yeah, alright, sure, I respect the old bastard as a leader and a damn good fighter. But if you ever tell him I said that, I'll deny it to my dying breath and kick your arse for real."

For the first time, Raleigh felt a certain kinship with Chuck. He knew how it felt to feel like you were constantly trying to measure up to an impossible standard. "I felt the same way about Yancy. It was easier to compete with him, y'know?" 

And for the first time in a very long time, saying Yancy's name didn't rip him open and leave him bleeding.

"That's your brother, right? The one who died?"

"Yeah." Five years and four months and he was still trying to figure out how to live with the gaping hole in his heart. Not even losing Jazmine had been this bad, and she'd been his last remaining family. But then, he hadn't been mentally connected to her when she'd died.

"I was sorry to hear about him. He was a good pilot."

"One of the best."

To Chuck's credit and Raleigh's considerable surprise, Chuck simply clinked his glass to Raleigh's and drank, offering a silent toast and a silent tribute. It struck Raleigh then that Chuck was the same age he'd been when he'd lost Yancy. And when he thought about all this kid (and Christ, he really _was_ still just a kid) had been through in his life, all the shit Raleigh'd been through in his own...fuck, it was wonder either of them were remotely sane. That's what war did to you – aged you in far too many ways, stripped you of humanity and empathy and all emotion except the rush of killing, which was no way to fucking live. 

No wonder so many former soldiers ate bullets when the military was done chewing them up and spit them out.

"Looking a bit maudlin there, Ray. I thought we were supposed to be cheering each other up and celebrating still being alive and all that other shite."

"It's Raleigh," he said, the correction by now as automatic as breathing.

Chuck grinned, quick and bright, revealing twin dimples on either side of his mouth. "Yeah, I know, it's called taking the piss. I hear it's what mates do and since we're playing at being mates right now –"

Fuck, those dimples were distracting. Raleigh hadn't even known the guy knew how to smile and mean it, like he was genuinely, honestly amused. Somehow seeing that smile made Chuck seem his age, like he wasn't so much a pain in the ass as just someone trying to make it the best way he knew how, like maybe they really _could_ be just two young guys who both felt far older than their years sharing a couple of drinks in a bar. 

"I can't think of any terrible nicknames for you," he finally said, and took another sip of his beer to keep from looking at Chuck's mouth again.

"With _my_ first name?" Chuck shook his head. "That's just a sad lack of imagination on your part."

There was a challenge there, but damned if Raleigh knew what it was. "No one's ever complained."

"With the way you look shirtless, I reckon not," Chuck said, and stood before Raleigh could formulate a reply. "C'mon, then. Bring your pint."

"Where're we going?"

"You'll see."

***

They hadn't taken ten steps before Raleigh figured out where they were headed. But he rolled with it. This may not have been in his plans for the evening, but it was Chuck's show now and Raleigh was content for the moment to be along for the ride.

The maintenance bay was all but deserted – the crews had long since called it a night, even though Raleigh knew they'd be back at it before dawn, checking and re-checking wires, tubes, bolts, seals, coolant levels, anything and everything they could. Keeping a Jaeger running at optimal capacity was its own cottage industry and required constant work.

But, for now, the two remaining Jaegers, all that was left of a once proud fleet, stood in their respective bays – silent sentinels watching over the Shatterdome like benevolent gods. Raleigh didn't think he'd ever get used to the sheer size of them, these magnificent, awe-inspiring creatures. Mankind's greatest achievement, a testament to cross-cultural cooperation and mutual respect.

Chuck dropped easily to the ground, sitting cross-legged, and Raleigh followed suit. For a long time, neither spoke. But the silence was easy. Peaceful, even, which wasn't a word Raleigh'd ever thought he'd associate with Chuck Hansen. Raleigh used the time to steal looks at Chuck's profile when he wasn't staring at the Jaegers – at the proud jawline and disheveled hair (not quite blond, not quite ginger, but something weirdly in-between) and the straight, military set to wide shoulders. There was no mistaking Chuck for anything other than what he was. A soldier right down to his arrogant bones.

"Y'know what I like most about being up there in the Conn?" Chuck asked, breaking the quiet. "It's not the drifting, although I hear some pilots've gotten addicted to it."

Raleigh could see that. Sharing thoughts and memories so intimately with another person was a powerful thing. Too powerful in Raleigh's opinion, but he knew more than most how that connection could also be a curse.

"It's feeling like I'm a Titan walking the earth," Chuck continued, hushed and quiet. "Like I'm Oceanus or Cronos or Rhea back in the ancient days when giants battling monsters was a right left to gods, not mortal men."

Definitely more to this kid than met the eye if he was quoting Greek mythology and waxing all philosophical. Raleigh found his assumptions shifting once again. "I'm still not sure if building these things was an act of hubris or courage."

"No reason it can't be both."

"Yeah, I guess not."

They polished off their beers in silence, but neither made a move to leave. For some reason, Raleigh was loathe to walk away. Going back to his room now just felt depressing, like he'd be retreating from something.

After another moment, he gestured at the Jaegers. "You know, if we actually succeed in closing the Breach, the world's not gonna need these anymore."

"We're already extinct, mate, haven't you heard?" This time, Chuck's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Doesn't matter what happens tomorrow, this is it. This is our last stand, the final battle of the once mighty Jaegers, may the program rest in peace."

"You given any thought to what you'll do after?"

"If we actually survive, you mean?" Raleigh nodded. "Not a single fucking clue. Maybe I'll nick off to find a bit of beach somewhere and have a holiday, not worry about what's coming out of the ocean for once. Might be nice not to have any responsibilities beyond just me and Max for awhile."

"You could still be a pilot. Jet or commercial or maybe even an astronaut, if you wanted."

Chuck was shaking his head before Raleigh'd even finished speaking. "Fuck all that, it wouldn't be the same, would it."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"What about you?" Chuck asked, casting him a sidelong glance. "What'd you reckon you'll do when the world has no need of Jaegers jockeys or giant walls to build?"

"Hadn't given it much thought, to be honest." The future wasn't something Raleigh'd ever contemplated. He always figured he'd die in a Jaeger or falling off a scaffold or something. Guys like him didn't live to be old men. "Maybe go into construction, help rebuild, I dunno."

Chuck smirked at him, but it didn't hold the same condescending bite Raleigh was used to seeing on his face. "That's awfully humanitarian of you there, Ray. Better look out that you don't turn into a bleeding heart softie in your dotage."

Raleigh chuckled. "You're still a real dick, you know that."

"And you're still a washed up old geezer," Chuck replied, prompt and still smiling. "We've all got shit we carry with us into the drift."

"Yeah," Raleigh murmured, Yancy's face flitting across his mind, "I guess we do."

"'Sides, we don't have to like each other all that much for this to work."

"For, uh, for what to work?"

Chuck gave him a disbelieving look. Raleigh got the feeling once again that he was missing something, but he still couldn't figure out what it was. 

"You serious?" Chuck scratched at his chin, the motion drawing Raleigh's attention back to his mouth. "Have you always been this slow on the uptick when you're being pulled?"

Being pulled...what?? The proverbial light bulb finally went off in Raleigh's head, but there was no _fucking_ way Chuck was... "Wait, for real?"

"I'll admit, you're not my first choice for my last fuck," Chuck continued, like he didn't even notice Raleigh was gaping at him like a fish wiggling on a hook, "but I'm probably not yours, either, so I think it evens out. At least I know you look good without your shirt on and, if you fuck like you fight, then you'll definitely do."

"Are you _seriously_ thinking –"

"Jesus Christ, you talk too fucking much," Chuck complained, and yanked on the back of Raleigh's head, bringing their mouths together.

White-hot heat exploded along Raleigh's spine. He couldn't breathe. Chuck's lips gave no quarter, and the tongue sweeping the inside of his mouth shut down every single objection and every single thought that wasn't _more_. With a low moan, he tilted his head, angled their mouths and dove in himself, determined to make Chuck as mindless as he currently was. He'd be damned if he was going to be the only person sporting serious wood over a single goddamn kiss.

When Raleigh finally came up for air, Chuck's lips were bruised and red and curved in a satisfied smile, and his eyes were half-lidded. Every atom in Raleigh's body clamored at him to drag Chuck down and finish what Chuck had started. Then Chuck slowly blinked open his eyes, and okay, yeah, Raleigh couldn't think of a single person still left on the planet that would have been able to resist that look or the way his freakin' lashes were just this shade of too long and much too pretty for that angular face.

"Yeah, you'll _definitely_ do, alright," Chuck drawled, his voice all thick like molasses in winter. "So, we doing this or what?"

Raleigh's blood was thrumming in his veins, his heart was pounding in his chest. "Yeah, we're definitely fucking doing this."

Chuck's resultant grin was sharp and feral. "Good."

***

This wasn't salvation. This wasn't anything even close to it. Salvation wasn't possible for guys like Raleigh, guys like Chuck. They both had too much blood on their hands, had dealt far too much death and destruction to have a hope for a Pearly Gates ending and harps and trumpets heralding them at the end of it all. And hell, maybe God didn't even exist anyway, or if He did, maybe He just didn't give a fuck about a world that had done its best to kill itself time and time again – maybe the kaiju really were God's punishment, Raleigh didn't know and he honestly didn't care. 

What he did know was, here and now, he finally felt _alive_. Gloriously, dizzyingly alive, so alive he felt like he could fight the battle tomorrow single-handedly. He might be a dead man walking, but for now, he lived, he breathed, and fuck, he _felt._

Chuck wasn't anything like any of the women Raleigh'd taken to bed – he wasn't passive, he wasn't soft, and he sure as fuck wasn't giving Raleigh the lead in anything. But he was warm and real and he matched Raleigh strength for strength as they tumbled clumsily to Raleigh's bed, trading sharp, biting kisses between trying to get each other naked as fast as possible. 

Once they were both shirtless, Raleigh pulled back, just to get a look, because he'd deliberately kept his distance from Chuck this past week when they'd all been in the communal shower together, and it wasn't the smattering of hair on Chuck's chest or the way his waist tapered into his hips or even the flex of his arms that had Raleigh sucking in his breath. It was the jagged, rough-edged scars on Chuck's own chest and abs that Raleigh knew came from a kaiju's claws, scars that mirrored his own, that made him weak at the knees and aching for more. Those scars were further proof that, for all their differences (although damned if Raleigh could remember or care what they were right now), they were still both warriors, the last hope of an ungrateful, dying race that had already rejected them. 

"Where?" Raleigh managed to gasp, knowing Chuck would understand the question, as his greedy hands sought and found even more bare skin and sleek muscle, traced over those scars with a reverent touch as he wondered how soon he could get his tongue on them.

"Sydney," Chuck replied, and dove back in, capturing Raleigh's mouth with an authority that was intoxicating, heady, his tongue stroking over Raleigh's with a slow, deliberate insistence. Raleigh was so hard already he thought he could probably come from just this, which should have embarrassed him, but he was too fucking gone to give a shit. 

By the time Raleigh was aware of his surroundings again, they'd shifted, and Chuck was above him, pressing him into an unyielding mattress, hair fucking wrecked from Raleigh's hands, eyes fever bright, and those fucking dimples had made another appearance on either side of that lush mouth. Raleigh couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted anything as much as he wanted this.

Chuck ground his hips against Raleigh's, his smile deepening. "Gonna let a cocky kid with an attitude problem have a crack at you?"

Like that was even a fair question.

"If you fuck even _half_ as well as you kiss, I don't care how much of an attitude problem you have," Raleigh replied, returning Chuck's smile and the sentiment behind it because this was absurd. _He_ was absurd. He still wasn't even sure he _liked_ Chuck all that much, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for the fact that Chuck made him feel aware of his own body, aware of _himself_ , in a way that he hadn't felt in years or maybe ever. Not even drifting with Yancy had felt quite like this.

"Please tell me you've got something, because if I have to settle for a sloppy handjob, I might honestly cry."

"Yeah," Raleigh chuckled, because he may have been out of the game for a few years, but he wasn't a monk. He pointed at the small set of drawers beside the bed, then gave Chuck his best shit-eating grin. Maybe he'd finally snapped and this was all in his head. Right now, he didn't care about that, either. "You know this is gonna work better if we're naked, right?"

Chuck huffed out a laugh against his neck, scraping his teeth along the line of Raleigh's jaw. "Yeah, y'reckon?"

Fuck, it was hard to concentrate. His hands spasmed over the long line of Chuck's back. He wanted to dig in his nails and mark all of that unblemished skin. "Yeah, I, uh, I do."

"Since you asked so nice and all..." Raleigh started to protest when Chuck abruptly sat up, but the words died in his throat when Chuck started attacking his belt and zipper with unbridled enthusiasm. 

"C'mon, up you get, just let me...oh, mate, that is really prime." Chuck let out an appreciative noise and slid a finger across the underside of Raleigh's cock. "Definitely getting this inside me later."

"Whatever you want," Raleigh promised, shivering as Chuck's finger glided down his length again. "I swear to Christ, Chuck, if you don't _do_ something..."

"Try to show some appreciation for a truly magnificent cock and all I get is lip," Chuck sighed, but he obligingly yanked at Raleigh's pants and boots, stripping him of both before making quick work of the rest of his own clothes. 

"Wait," Raleigh said, when Chuck made a move to crawl back on top of him. "Just...gimme a minute."

Chuck arched an eyebrow. "Thought you were all rarin' to go."

"I am, but..." Raleigh propped himself up on his elbows and gave Chuck's body one long, slow look. "Just give me one minute, alright."

"Fine, but I'm not posing," Chuck smiled, relaxed and easy, like he was used to showing off the goods to an appreciative audience. Hell, he was a young, good-looking Jaeger pilot, and if he was anything like Raleigh'd been during his first tour, he'd done his fair share of groupies. So maybe he was used to getting looked at and looked over, but it wasn't going to stop Raleigh from adding his name to that list.

For all that Chuck was on the leaner side, he managed to fill his frame quite nicely. Those wide shoulders led to some very nice arms and an even nicer chest, scars notwithstanding (or maybe because of them, but Raleigh wasn't in the mood to try to differentiate), and maybe his abs weren't as ripped as Raleigh's, but his stomach was still flat and his hips were mouth-wateringly perfect, framing an even more mouth-watering cock. He wasn't quite as long as Raleigh, but the girth...yeah, that was more than impressive. Chuck had the legs of a jockey – heavily muscled thighs and calves, not an ounce of flab to be found. And when Raleigh twirled his finger and Chuck laughingly obliged by turning around, Raleigh feasted his eyes on a gorgeous stretch of back and a damn near perfect ass. 

"Do I pass muster, then?" Chuck asked, when he turned back to face Raleigh. Raleigh found himself under the same scrutiny, felt the heat of Chuck's gaze on him, and maybe they weren't each other's first choice, but Raleigh couldn't help but feel like they'd both lucked out all the same. 

"Yeah, you pass. With flying colors, even."

That seemed to be all the permission Chuck needed to climb back on the bed and settle between Raleigh's thighs, picking up right where he'd left off, only this time, there were no barriers between them. It was all slick skin sliding against slick skin, the pull of muscle under Raleigh's hands, and more of those crazy intoxicating kisses that made Raleigh feel like he was freefalling, no fucking net or failsafe. They ground against each other, once again matching strength for strength, and the slide of Chuck's cock along his own was perfect, just enough friction to keep Raleigh on edge, but not enough to send him over. 

He was barely aware of one of Chuck's hands fumbling towards the drawers, but when Chuck smiled against his lips, he figured Chuck had found the slick and the strip of condoms all on his own. "That's a lot of rubbers y'got there," Chuck observed, sitting up again so he could drizzle lube onto his fingers. "I've gotta admire the ambition."

"Why, you don't think you're up for helping me put a dent in them?" Raleigh asked, knowing full well Chuck would take it for the challenge it was. He was counting on it, in fact.

" _Dent_ , hell, mate, we're burning through all of 'em," Chuck replied, and slid his hand between Raleigh's legs, pushing two slick fingers inside him, confident and slow, no fumbling around. Raleigh jerked, then relaxed into the invasion, and almost at once, he started moving with Chuck, rotating his hips in small circles. It had been awhile, but the muscle memory was returning in a hurry, and while this was nice and he appreciated that Chuck was taking the time to get him nice and stretched, he needed something more.

"I'm good," he said, sounding raspy and needy even to himself.

Chuck quirked an eyebrow and stilled his fingers. "Yeah?"

Raleigh didn't answer with words – he just ripped open a condom and quickly rolled it on Chuck's length to prove his point; although he did spend a few seconds stroking and petting, because he was only human, and it was right there for the taking. Sometime before Chuck left his bed, Raleigh was getting his lips stretched around Chuck's cock and going to town, but for now, he was far too impatient for foreplay. He wanted Chuck inside him, splitting him open, fucking him into next week, and he didn't care what that made him.

He watched, hungry and edgy, as Chuck coated the condom with a thin layer of lube, and he spread his legs even wider, lifting his hips in silent invitation as he felt the first thick press of Chuck's cock against his hole. The burn was exquisite, a slow-rolling pain that bled into a pleasure so intense it was almost like how he imagined dying must feel. Raleigh wasn't sure his body could contain it, but it wasn't going to stop him from trying.

Above him, Chuck's eyes were squeezed tight and the muscles in his arms were straining with effort. "Jesusfuck, you're tight..."

Chuck still wasn't getting with the program, but that was fine. Raleigh knew exactly what he wanted, and he had no problems asking for it. "So fuck me open."

" _Fuck_ ," Chuck groaned, and finally – _finally_ – sank down, buried himself to the hilt inside Raleigh's body. 

"C'mon," Raleigh encouraged, and threaded his fingers in Chuck's hair as he started pushing his hips up, mimicking what he wanted from Chuck with the insistent sweep of his tongue inside Chuck's mouth.

Chuck moaned into the kiss and the sound – the _feel_ – reverberated between them as his body stuttered and stopped, but then he finally started moving, and yeah, this was flawless, this was flying, this was drifting, this was the granddaddy of all neural handshakes, this was _connection_. They were fused together so tight Raleigh couldn't even be sure where he ended and Chuck began, and that was also its own crazy brand of perfection. 

"That's it, move with me, you lazy bastard, don't make me do all the work," Chuck grunted, snapping his hips forward, the thrust hard enough to shake the bed and the metal frame.

"Now who's talking too much," Raleigh grinned, and dug his heels into Chuck's ass, meeting him halfway. He was still laughing when Chuck captured his mouth again, and this was perfect too, all of it was perfect precisely because it was so _im_ perfect. Chuck was still a mouthy little arrogant shit and Raleigh was still an emotional basketcase with impulse control issues, but they fit together, somehow they fucking _fit_. They brought out the best and worst in each other, sometimes at the same time, and Raleigh couldn't think of the last time he'd let himself go so completely.

They finally found a rhythm that worked, and Raleigh lost himself in it, in the sweat dotting Chuck's forehead, in Chuck's weight keeping him pinned in place, in panting breaths that bled into sloppy kisses as each thrust seemed to go longer and deeper. Chuck fucked him like it really _was_ his last night on earth, like he'd never get another shot, like this was all he'd ever get. And Raleigh matched him, scraped his nails down Chuck's back, demanded even more, and got it. Moment bled into moment bled into harsh moans bled into hisses of air as they took each other to the edge and then over.

Raleigh had no idea how long he floated on endorphins and post-orgasmic lassitude, Chuck collapsed on top of him and mouthing lazily at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, but he wasn't in any hurry to move, and it was his fucking bed anyway. He idly wished he'd taken up smoking at some point, because the moment seemed to cry out for a cigarette. If he lived past tomorrow, maybe he'd give it a try, see how he liked it.

Chuck was mumbling something, but the words were unintelligible, so Raleigh lolled his head to the side, squinting so he could focus on Chuck's face. He wondered if he looked as blissfully fucked out as Chuck, if his cheeks were as flushed and his eyes as soft, and he kinda hoped so, because he wanted Chuck to see what he was seeing right now. 

"Wassat?" Hey, at least it was sort of in English. That counted as a win in his book, considering he was pretty sure his brain was a big pile of mush.

"I said, not too shabby for a first go," Chuck smiled, soft and sort of sweet and _damn_ those dimples were still distracting as shit.

Then Chuck's words caught up with him and Raleigh's shoulders shook with silent laughter because of _course_ this would be Chuck's idea of post-coital bed talk. And, right now, he wouldn't want it any other way.

"Y'reckon we can do better?" Raleigh asked, deliberately mimicking Chuck's accent as best he could, trying to infuse all of Chuck's inherent arrogance into the question.

Chuck shifted until he was on his side, but he curled a leg across Raleigh's after he tied off the condom and threw it in the nearby trashcan, and his chuckle was genuine and beautifully real. "Not bad," he observed, and pressed a smiling kiss to Raleigh's lips. "And, yeah, to answer your question, I _do_ reckon we can do a lot better."

Raleigh stretched, feeling the ache and twinge of sorely, beautifully used muscles, relishing the sticky feel of come drying on his stomach. "Well, you did promise we were gonna burn through the entire strip of rubbers, so..."

"I did, but now it's my turn to be a lazy bludger, so get yer strength about you, because I'm gonna make you work for it."

It sounded like a damn good plan to Raleigh, and as soon as he could feel his toes, he'd get on that. But, for now, he lifted his head, nipped at Chuck's bottom lip, kissing him like they had all the time in the world. From the way Chuck responded, cupping his jaw with work-rough fingers, maybe he felt the same way. And maybe this really was all they'd have, maybe this was the only bit of peace they were going to have before they or their world was all blown to hell, but it was enough. His heart was still beating, his lungs still expanded with breath, and he was still _here_ , still present and accounted for, and it was more than enough. 

And, with Chuck all pliant and responsive in his arms, and the rest of the night stretched out before him like a buffet of untold delights, tomorrow seemed like a lifetime away.

***

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested in what happens next, you can find the sequel here: [The Land of the Second Chance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1086988).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Freedom's Just Another Word](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946554) by [Loolph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loolph/pseuds/Loolph)




End file.
